with a mechanical precision utterly lacking the spirit of intelligence. It is the body without the spark of life. They imitate every thing accurately in detail, but without any soul.

Their artistic productions, though the work of marvelous skill and patience oftentimes,

Nearly all the dwellings are built by the water's edge, for the river is a self-sustaining highway, on which loads are carried to the foot of the mountains. The buts are built on piles, like those of the ancient lake-dwellers of Switzerland, and the appropriateness

are wearisome, unnatural, and devoid of character. In Java, Borneo, and the Malaccas, the utensils in daily use are ornamented with so refined and subtile a feeling for form and color that they are praised by artists as patterns of decoration, affording proof that the labor is one of love and presided over by intelligence. The natives of the Philippines rarely display such sense of beauty. Even the celebrated Pina embroideries, fabricated with such marvelous skill and patience, and displaying a peerless fineness of work, are, as a rule, spiritless imitations of Spanish patterns.

In most countries with so mild a climate and fertile soil, the inhabitants would have been ground down by native princes or ruthlessly plundered by foreigners. In these richly-endowed and isolated islands, pressure from above, impulse from within, and stimulus from without, are all wanting, and the satisfaction of a few trifling wants suffices for ample comfort. Here, under the shade of the palm-trees, blossoms the full knowledge of the dolce far niente. A trip across the Pasig gives a foretaste of life in the interior. Low, wooden cabins and bamboo-huts, surmounted with green foliage, gorgeous flowers, and trailers, are picturesquely grouped along the river-bank, with groves of palm and feather-headed bamboos. The shore is fringed with canoes, nets, rafts, and fishing-apparatus. Boats float down the stream, and canoes ply from bank to bank amid the groups of bathers. The liveliest traffic is carried on in the large sheds which open on the river, the great channel for trade. These are rare attractions to the sailors, who resort there to enliven existence in the fascinating pursuits of gambling, smoking, and betel-chewing.

Sometimes a native may be seen floating down the stream asleep on a heap of cocoanuts. Should the raft of nuts collide with the shore, the drowsy voyager raises himself up, pushes adrift with a long bamboo, and, as his eccentric raft regains the current, again yields to the luxuriant dreams induced by the betel-nut.

of the position is evident, for the stream, of course, is the very centre of activity. The river-side is a pretty sight, when the men, women, and children, are bathing and frolicking in the shade of the palm-trees; when the young girls are filling their water-vessels, large bamboos, which they carry on their shoulders, or water-jars, which they bear on their heads; and when the boys are standing upright on the backs of the buffaloes, and riding triumphantly in and out of the water.

In these localities the cocoa-palm most flourishes-a tree that not only supplies food and drink, but every material necessary for the construction of huts and the manufacture of household utensils. Inland the tree bears but little fruit, but close to the shore yields most plentifully, even when growing on wretched soil. It is said that cocoa-trees growing by the sea-side are wont to incline their stems over the ocean, the waters of which bear the fruit to desert islands and shores, thus playing an essential part in the ocean vagabondage of Polynesia and Malaysia.

One of the most striking and characteristic trees of the Philippines is the bamboo, whose luxuriant, leafy top may be seen almost everywhere. This gigantic plant is almost indispensable to the comforts and conveniences of tropical life. Nature has endowed it with so many useful qualities, casting all others of her gifts in the shade, that its splendid beauty ceases to be thought of in the comparison. Possessing an extraordinary strength in proportion to its lightness, the result of its round shape and the regularity of the joints, a few sharp cuts of a knife suffice to convert it into any form needed. The ingenious cottager, inheriting the simple traditions of his hereditary craft, manufactures with extraordinary rapidity nearly every implement necessary to his life: chairs, tables, fishing nets, baskets of every shape, ropes, mats, troughs, roofing-tiles, gates, knives, and forks, are turned out as if by magic at the hands of our rude artisan from the one slender tree, whose graceful crown lends one of

the most characteristic charms to the landscape. The parallel position and toughness of the fibres render it easy to split, and when split its pieces are all of extraordinary pliability and elasticity. To the gravelly soil on which it grows are probably owing its durability, its firm, even, clean surface, and the brilliancy and color which always improve by use. It is a wonderful provision of Nature, too, that, amid a population with such limited means of conveyance, the bamboo is to be found in such numbers and of every possible size. Its floating power is unsurpassed, and it is preeminently fitted for a country poor in roads, but rich in water

courses.

The stranger traveling in the interior learns to appreciate the hospitality of Nature. The air is so equitably warm that one would gladly dispense with all clothing except a solar hat and a pair of light shoes. Should one desire to pass the night in the open air, the construction of a hut from the leaves of the palm and the fern is the work of a few moments, and it is always easy to obtain the necessaries of life at a reasonable rate. He will everywhere meet with semanéros (performers of menial duties), ready to serve him as messengers or porters for a trifling fee. On one occasion Mr. Jagor desired to send a man who was playing cards and drinking palm-wine on an errand. The native said he could not go, for he was a prisoner; but one of his guardians, leaving his charge lolling in the shade, proceeded to discharge the labor in the midst of the intense heat. Prisoners have but little cause to complain of the rigid severities of justice. The only drawback to the comfort of the petty criminal is the severe flogging to which he is liberally treated by the authorities, even for a trifling offense. The natives, though, seem from long experience to have become almost callous to corporeal punishment. The acquaintances of the victim on such occasions stand around to enjoy the spectacle, and jeer at him, asking how the whip-lash tastes. After the whipping, all, spectators, criminal, and executioner, walk away together, laughing and joking, the very best of friends. Thieving and robbery are very common crimes in the islands, and the wealthier classes suffer much from kleptomania on the part of the servants. In some districts the most trifling articles are apt to disappear the instant the owner takes his eyes off them. The Philippine-Islander seems to have had omitted from his organism any clear notion of the distinction between meum and tuum, and regards theft as the merest peccadillo, the whole objection to which consists in being

detected in the commission.

Every village has its casa real, or tribunal, where the traveler can take up his quarters, and be supplied with food at the marketprice. Yet the European visitor, from the proclivities of the natives just alluded to, finds himself easier in mind as a guest at the convento, or dwelling of the priest, who is always right glad to dispense such hospitality. Oftentimes the priest is the only white man for miles around, and he is only too anxious to house so rare a guest, giving up the best bedroom, and offering all that kitchen and

cellar can yield. Every thing is placed before the stranger in a spirit of such undisguised friendliness that he is bestowing instead of accepting a favor. Sometimes the hospitable padres have been known to attack the tribunal with a force of followers when travelers have been known to be present, and carry off their prizes in triumph to their dwellings vi et armis.

Most of the dwellings of the priests are dirty and squalid, but in the larger towns the -conventos are often spacious and noble structures. Such especially our author found the church and convento at Majaijai, built by the Jesuits, and splendidly situated. The lake of Bay was seen to extend to the far northeast; in the distance the peninsula of Jalajala; the island of Talim, with its SosonDalaga volcano; and the spires of Manila terminated the vista. From the convento to the lake stretched an endless grove of cocoatrees, while toward the south the slope of the distant high ground grew suddenly steeper, forming an abruptly precipitous conical hill, intersected by deep ravines. This was the Banajao or Majaijai volcano, and beside it San Christoval reared its bell-shaped summit.

Mr. Jagor was anxious to make an ascent, but the rainy weather which prevailed presented too great an obstacle. The volcano is about six thousand five hundred feet in height, and the crater about seven hundred feet deep. At the last eruption in 1730 the mountain burst into flames on its southern side, threw up streams of water, burning lava, and stones of an immense size, ravaging and desolating the country for many miles in the fiery track.

THE MASTER OF BASILWOOD.

"My surmise was correct, then," said Mrs. Basil to herself, as she sat alone. "That letter was from Miss Hawkesby. I'm glad she does not utterly forget the child; for if Pamela should die-she's never sick, it is true, but then some people do drop off so unexpectedly; the judge, her cousin, did -and if she were to die, what would become of Joanna? What could she mean by saying that she would make provision for Joanna's future? If she thinks to marry her to Arthur, she has less sense than I gave her credit for. It would be a fine thing for Joanna, but as if Arthur could be such a fool! No, no; there is not the least danger; Pamela may spare her pains, as I shall not scruple to tell her, if I see any symptoms. But, then, it would be nice for Joanna if Miss Hawkesby would take her away-for some day she must cease to be a child—and give her a fair chance in this life. She has no advantage here, poor thing! and really I

* ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by D. APPLETON & Co., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

wonder Pamela doesn't make an effort to rouse the old lady to a sense of her duty."

Some slight fear that Miss Basil might endeavor to bring about a match between Arthur and the judge's granddaughter had begun to trouble Mrs. Basil's mind, but there was no need for any such fear. A scheming woman, indeed, with an ordinary talent for match-making, would have seen in young Hendall's advent a rare chance for the little Joanna; but Miss Basil, though a most notable manager, was no schemer. She had not that absolute control of her feelings and prejudices so essential to a schemer. Human nature does not require strictly reasonable grounds for its likes and dislikes, as those of us who know some Dr. Fell are well aware; and Miss Basil, disliking Arthur Hendall for no better reason than that he was Mrs. Basil's nephew, and the prospective owner of Basilwood, was very far from desiring to see Joanna married to him; she hoped, indeed, that Joanna would be sensible and never marry. As for any prospect of her marrying young Hendall, Miss Basil herself did not see more clearly than that, with all the advantages he had enjoyed, a simple country girl like this poor little Joanna was no match for him, in any sense. But she did not, like Mrs. Basil, believe so devoutly in the saving dignity of the Hendall blood; she did not believe that this young gentleman, rich in all the arts of worldlings, as Miss Basil could not doubt he must be, would deny himself for honor's sake, nor for dignity's sake, the pleasure of an idle flirtation, by way of pastime, if opportunity offered. And Joanna-Joanna was a little fool, and would believe every word he uttered!

So poor Miss Basil went sorrowing about her work, and turning over in her mind the means of guarding the inexperienced Joanna against the fascinations of Mrs. Basil's nephew. Not knowing exactly what would be best to say on the subject, her great object, just now, was to avoid Joanna; she did not choose to have her assistance in making ready for Mr. Hendall. But passing through the large, barn-like hall that led to the south wing, there was the girl, curled up in the window-seat, and playing with her kitten. At any other time Miss Basil would have reproved her for trifling, but now she took comfort in the sight; it seemed to prove Joanna still a child, in spite of her ready knack at hair-dressing, and her aspirations after demi

ful things, and many others, she herself had faithfully taught her; and she knew, moreover, to her sorrow, that this "child of many prayers" delighted in reading story-books, and hated Dr. Johnson and Hannah More with a hatred that was not ashamed. And no more than this, after seventeen years of intimate companionship, no more than this did Miss Basil know of Joanna; which, however, is hardly to be wondered at, seeing that, of all God's creatures, the most incomprehensible, perhaps, is a girl,of seventeen.

Miss Basil, finding Joanna so childishly employed, wished her to remain a child, and began stealthily to retreat; but Joanna, looking up, with her thumb and forefinger arrested in the act of playfully pinching the kitten's ears, broke into a laugh, and said:

"Why do you go 'mousing' about so like an old cat, 'Mela? I'm wide awake"so she was, indeed, Miss Basil sighed to see"what a time you've been talking with the grandmamma. Who is coming, now?"

"Never you mind, child; young people should not be inquisitive. Play with your kitten," Miss Basil replied, with useless and therefore unwise evasion.

The little Joanna had asked this innocent question season after season, and had always received a direct answer. With a quick, impulsive movement she slipped from her high seat, dropping the startled kitten upon the floor, and fixed her large, dark eyes upon Miss Basil with a searching look; and Miss Basil never liked to meet those eyes, so unflinching, so unfathomable, so comprehensive were they; to feel them upon her now made her fidget uneasily.

"Pamela," said Joanna, deliberately, " "I know; it is the-nephew."

"How should you know any thing about it?" said Miss Basil, in an injured tone, and flushing hotly.

"How should I know?" repeated Joanna. Why, old Thurston told me there were letters for the grandmamma, and don't we all know that means visitors? And, if Miss Archer, or Mrs. Carew, or that Miss Ruffner were coming, you would say so at once."

Truly, her argument was conclusive. Joanna knew all about Mr. Arthur Hendall's title to Basilwood; Miss Basi had felt in duty bound to explain it as soon as the child was old enough to understand her position, but she had deemed it advisable to have as little as possible to say about young Hendall himself; she did not wish Joanna to run any risk of becoming interested in him in any way, and she invariably checked every attempt to make him the subject of conversation. But now the perplexed woman began to think she had made a mistake; she had lost so many opportunities of giving Joanna's mind the proper bias against him. It was not yet too late, however, perhaps; so she said, grimly:

"You know he is the master of Basilwood, Joanna; let us not forget that." It was not the wisest thing she could have said. Her words placed young Hendall before Joanna's quick imagination in a sort of picturesque light. The master of Basilwood! Did not that imply that the grandmamma's nephew occupied a peculiar position in regard to

herself? Joanna had read too many romances not to feel a certain charm in the situation when she thought it over; and Miss Basil, who had hoped, as she would have said, "to set the child against the inheritor of her grandfather's old home," felt vexed and disappointed to see her begin again, with infantine playfulness, to pinch the kitten's ears. She did wish Joanna would show some human feeling.

"However, she is but a child, I suppose; and God forbid that I should teach her to cherish envy, hatred, and malice,' against any one!" Miss Basil said to herself, and went away; but, returning half an hour later, she was rather startled to find the volatile Joanna still sitting in the window, her kitten forgotten, her eyes bent on the floor, her whole demeanor expressive of deep thought. Miss Basil knew, by old experience, that these fits of meditation boded no good; and she said, irritably:

"Get down, child, and find something to do. How often must I remind you of the folly and the sin of wasting your time?"

Joanna rose quickly, saying, with unwonted submission, "I am sure, 'Mela, I am willing to be useful. If you are going to see about Mr. Hendall's room, I am ready to help you. I have been thinking about my duty-"

Miss Basil trembled at the words. What was not this unaccountable Joanna capable of, if she had begun to think about her duty? | "I don't want you; you will be in my way; go play with your kitten, child," she said, shortly, and made haste to leave her.

“Go—play—with-your-kitten, child," repeated the little Joanna, slowly, staring after her. "What can have come over Pamela to suppose that I can be playing with a kitten forever?" Then she turned again to the window, and pursued the current of her thoughts.

These summer visitors, so dreaded by Miss Basil, were hardly a source of greater pleasure to Mrs. Basil herself than to Joanna. True, she was always in the distant background, for Miss Basil, by way of keeping her young charge unspotted from the world, had never permitted her to mingle freely with Mrs. Basil's guests; but their mere presence at Basilwood gave her a glimpse of that alluring outside world from which she had been all her life so carefully secluded; and, better still, these well-bred, well-dressed people afforded her models upon which to form herself. For Joanna was ambitious; conscious of her deficiencies, she was laudably anxious to improve, and eager to seize every opportunity for improvement that offered. These were not many, for Basilwood was remote and isolated; and, partly on this account, partly because of Miss Basil's extremely retiring hab. its, poor little Joanna had grown up without companions or playmates, having never been at school. Miss Basil had taught her a little, and, for the rest, having a quick mind, she had picked up a fair stock of information, foraging among a lot of long-forgotten books stowed away in the garret, where she could read unmolested.

"A solitary child, shutting herself up between the leaves," books had taught her

much; but, with ready intelligence, she had soon perceived that there was something to be learned about this world and the people in it that books alone could never teach. The ladies that visited Basilwood, elderly, cold, and formal, for the most part, were not particularly attractive to young persons; yet, though she kept aloof from them, Joanna ob- | served them studiously, and soon learned from them an idea of style and elegance which she greatly affected. She had thus acquired a theoretical knowledge of the ways of the fashionable world that would have amazed Miss Basil. The girl had very grave notions about fitting herself for life, for society, and she hoped that young Hendall would be an advantage to her in this way. It was no fault of his that he was master of Basilwood; "and surely," thought she, in the simplicity of her heart, “being a man, he must be wondrous wise."

But these innocent aspirations after "something better than she had known" Joanna buried in the depths of her own heart, not from any sense of shame, but from a dawning consciousness that her excellent cousin's idea of confidence was limited to the rigid truth about indisputable realities, and that her notion of sympathy meant nothing more than ministering to bodily ailments. Any thing that could not be classed as an actual, tangible fact, Miss Basil denominated fancifulness; so Joanna, perforce, having no one else to reveal herself to, kept her own counsel, and became a dreamer of dreams. She was dreaming now, as she sat in the window, an innocent dream of youth's fair possibilities, that she would not have hesitated to confide to Pamela, if ouly Pamela could understand!

But Miss Basil, all alone up-stairs, waging war against the dust and cobwebs that had accumulated during the winter, did not need to be told that Joanna's idle reveries were full of" the grandmamma's nephew;" she knew it instinctively-" and Joanna was the despair of her life!" she said, passionately. But she had striven hard to train up the child in the way she should go, and no sense of discouragement could make her relax her efforts certainly she was not going to spare them now; she meant to do her duty by Joanna at all hazards-if only she knew what to do! Could she have believed that the warning would be heeded, she might have been willing to relate to Joanna a page out of her own history; but nothing could have persuaded Miss Basil that any good would come of revealing her sad, romantic story. She could, however, be more than ever watchful; Joanna must be kept more strictly within bounds, for wasn't she a child still? and children should be retiring-she had always impressed that upon Joanna; it was no new doctrine she was about to preach. It had been a great cross to her, in these hard times, that Mrs. Basil would not conform to her hours for meals-an obstinacy that entailed much trouble and extra work-but now she saw a special providence in Mrs. Basil's luxurious habits; there would be the less occasion for Joanna to meet Mr. Hendall.

While she was meditating a suitable discourse to deliver to Joanna, or, rather, while

she was debating with herself whether or not it would be advisable to say any thing on the subject of her fears, Mrs. Basil came in to inspect the room. She would gladly have assisted the work of preparation, but she never did know what to do. She always awoke to new life when the season came that brought the company she loved. In winter she vegetated; what was there for her to do but sit and wait for summer to bring back some semblance of the old, easy, joyous time when three-eighths of a cent more or less in the price of cotton made no difference to her? Easy as it seemed by comparison, her lot was really a harder one than Miss Basil's, who had the absorbing work of the garden, the orchard, the dairy, and the poultry-yard, to occupy her thoughts, not to mention the disappointing little Joanna.

Except an object to live for, Mrs. Basil had had every thing that life could give- wealth, beauty, position, influence, all had been hers, and what now remained but the dregs? Youth had vanished, wealth had vanished; she said very little about her losses in either respect; but her head had turned while contemplating the hopeless decadence of her condition, and often she was aweary of her life. But not to-day; for was not her nephew Arthur coming at last?

Mrs. Basil had never seen him since he was a little fellow in his father's house, when she was living there, a passée belle, and fonder of his childish prattle than of all the homage she had ever commanded in society. No one had ever come so near her heart as this only child of her only brother. But Fate had been against her here. When his parents died, Arthur went to his mother's relations, and he might have been utterly alienated from his aunt but for his interest in Basilwood. Mrs. Basil, therefore, had no jealousy of his claim upon the place, since it attached him to her; and now that his mother's childless brothers had gone out of the world like so many other men of reputed wealth in these times, leaving no vestige of their fortune behind them, Arthur must settle down to planting. It would be a good thing for him, it would be a good thing for her; he would have all that stanch respectability attaching to a landed proprietor, and he would improve the finances of Basilwood; something of the easy charm of old times would come back.

Mrs. Basil had long desired this day, and for joy could hardly contain herself. Under ordinary circumstances, she would not have cared for Miss Basil's sympathy; but now, without knowing what it was she wanted, she came restlessly into the room, passed her hands over the pillows, peered into the bu reau-drawers, turned up the blinds and turned them down again, and annoyed Miss Basil not a little.

"O Pamela, are you sure that every thing is thoroughly attended to, the bedding well aired, and all that? You should have had Myra up to help you."

"But Myra is busy with the ironing," said Miss Basil, and in her heart she wished Mrs. Basil had something to do to keep her busy. But Mrs. Basil could do nothing but sew a little, and she did not always have the material to sew upon.

"Well, we must find an extra servant, I suppose," said she, as complacently as if an extra servant would cost nothing. "It is always the way in summer. I hope the room is well aired, and the bedding; I am very particular, because Arthur is by no means so well as I could wish him to be."

"An invalid?" queried Miss Basil, with interest, adjusting in her mind the advantages and disadvantages likely to result from Mr. Arthur Hendall's inability to leave his room. It would certainly keep him out of Joanna's way; but it would also entail much unprofit.able labor. The advantages and disadvantages seemed about evenly balanced, and Miss Basil sighed.

"Yes," said Mrs. Basil, brightly, mistaking the sigh for sympathy; 64 a tertian ague, attended by rheumatic symptoms, with some gastric disturbance."

"Oh, that's nothing," said Miss Basil, with an air of experience. "The remedy is quinine; and iodoform would benefit him."

"I beg your pardon," said Mrs. Basil, in an offended tone; "I consider it quite serious; it is the result of exposure in the swamp through which the New Central road is now being surveyed.”

"Oh!" said Miss Basil, meekly.

She always wilted when Mrs. Basil begged her pardon.

But Mrs. Basil turned away unappeased. There was yet more to tell about Arthur, and in her then mood she might have told it if Miss Basil had not slighted his "symptoms so. As if she would be permitted to prescribe in such a case! No, indeed; Mrs. Basil intended to send for Dr. Garnet as soon as Arthur should arrive.

CHAPTER IV.

MISS BASIL TAKES REFUGE IN A SONG.

YOUNG HENDALL arrived the next morning. He was a tall, handsome young man, but evidently the worse for the tertian ague and attendant symptoms, and when Miss Basil saw him her heart smote her.

"Heaven forgive me," she sighed, "that ever I should have rejoiced at his being obliged to keep his room!"

Bodily suffering always moved her compassion, and, though she mistrusted all handsome young men in general, and this one in particular, she went immediately to prepare for him such delicacies as only she could concoct; for, except administering physic, Miss Basil liked nothing so well as making dainty dishes for the sick.

But her compassionate feelings were doomed to meet a sudden shock. Intent upon her benevolent design, she came near stumbling over the little Joanna, who had been peeping through the crack of the dining-room door, at the imminent risk of pinching her nose.

"Mercy upon us, Joanna!" she exclaimed, in wrath. "What are you doing there?"

She almost wished the child had pinched sher nose.

"Oh, do tell me what he is like, 'Mela!" Joanna asked, eagerly.

Miss Basil, though she would have it that Joanna must remain a child, demanded, none the less, the discreet reticence of conscious womanhood.

"You are very improper, Joanna," said she, sharply, as she walked resolutely to the store-room. "All sick men are alike-be sure of that never thinking of the everlasting trouble they give."

"O 'Mela!" exclaimed Joanna, following in Miss Basil's wake, and speaking with enthusiasm. "I should not mind the trouble, for it isn't mere common sickness in his case. Haven't you heard? Only think of his being wounded with a pistol in a-a-contest "—Joanna had an extravagant ambition to use superior" language, and, no matter what she talked about, would hesitate for a highsounding word—“ with those dreadful burglars that broke into Mrs. Stargold's house in W Westport the other day-the other night, you know I mean-Mrs. Elizabeth Stargold, the grandmamma's cousin "—Joanna never said my grandmamma "-" an elderly lady, 'Mela, she is, living all alone, and e-normously wealthy, I do suppose. You see, I can tell you all about it. The papers called it a thrilling adventure, 'Mela, and—”

By this time they were in the store-room, and Miss Basil was trying on a large calico apron. She had appeared not to be listening, but she had heard, with the silence of exasperation, every word that the little Joanna, following at her heels, poured forth so eagerly; and she had finally made up her mind that this unwarrantable enthusiasm must be checked. As if it were not enough that Arthur Hendall must come to Basilwood at all, but he must come with the prestige of a hero! Yet, Miss Basil was going to make something good for him; oh, yes, she would repay him with kindness!

"You talk too much, Joanna," said she, giving a vicious tug at the apron-strings.

"But the grandmamma herself told me," persisted Joanna, simply. "You see, I wished to know, and so I asked her."

"You-asked her!" repeated Miss Basil, astonished. "Why, Joanna ! "

"Why, of course," answered Joanna, with simplicity. "Why should I not ask her?"

Miss Basil couldn't explain why; so she said, lifting a warning finger that Joanna always associated with forbidden fruit:

"What are you going to make, 'Mela?" said Joanna, with great interest, planting her elbows on the table, and cradling her cheeks in her hands. "Let it be something very, very nice, do; for, oh, he is as brave-as brave as a lion! And I do admire-prowess in a man!"

"Joanna, child, I wish you wouldn't!" ("Wouldn't" what? Miss Basil did not, under the circumstances, know how to be definite.) "You always do contrive to get just in my way!" said poor Miss Basil, lugubriously.

"Blanc-mange!" cried Joanna, clapping her hands softly, as she moved away to the other end of the table at the instigation of Miss Basil's remorseless elbows. "And you do make such delicious blanc-mange, 'Mela! I hope you are going to put it in the rosemould."

"No, I am not," said Miss Basil, crossly. "Don't be silly, Joanna. It's only a milkpunch I shall make.”

"I am sure he would like that," said Joanna, not feeling the rebuff; for was not 'Mela always cross when grandmamma's company came?

"And why should you mind what he likes?" said Miss Basil, severely. "I dare say we may rue the day he came."

"I'm sure he's much nicer to have here than the Archers or that Miss Ruffner."

"Joanna," said Miss Basil, suspending the spoon over the yellow bowl of milk, "Mrs. Basil's relations, remember."

"She's just horrid, Miss Ruffner is, for all that!" said Joanna, unabashed. "Don't I know her? Forever and forever boasting about her-her pedigree, and always, always calling me 'child,' and asking whether I know my catechism, and I every bit of sixteen last summer when she was here! But, O Pamela!"-clasping her hands with fervor, in a sudden transition from intense indignation to intense admiration, and sighing forth her words fervently-"she did wear love-ly trains!"

And Joanna, with her hands still clasped, bent her supple knees so as to make her short skirts trail on the floor, looking down at them over her shoulder with an absorbing interest, very distressing to poor Miss Basil, who thought the love of dress the root of all evil.

"Ah, child, 'vanity of vanities!"" she murmured, warningly.

"But," said Joanna, argumentatively, "it was not unbecoming, for the grandmamma was pleased, I assure you. She commended my-my urbanity in asking about her neph

ew."

"Oh, good gracious, Joanna !" exclaimed Miss Basil; but whether from perplexity at Mrs. Basil's want of judgment in thus encouraging idle curiosity, or from impatience at Joanna's ambitious language, she herself could not have told.

"She did," said Joanna, quietly.

Miss Basil, having no words in which to express her conflicting sentiments, began with a great clatter to gather together an array of bowls and spoons.

skirts. "I've heard it a thousand times. It's all because you don't care for trains and the like."

"Trains and the like are not exempt from moth and rust; remember that, child," said Miss Basil, dolefully. "I must always remind you, Joanna, of the folly of setting your heart on the things of this world."

"Oh, dear, 'Mela!" said Joanna, with a shrug. "Were you never young, in all your life, that you can't understand my feelings? "

"Yes," replied Miss Basil, promptly; "I've seen the folly and the vanity of youth in my time."

"Then you might let me see the folly and the vanity of it in my time, which is just come," said Joanna, coaxingly.

"Which is just come !" repeated Miss Basil, "Join dismay, thinking of young Hendall. anna, what do you mean by such an expression? But it is no matter what you mean, you silly, thoughtless child; it is my duty to warn you, without fear or favor, that youth is a snare and a delusion!" Miss Basil had great faith in the power of pious song; when nothing else would subdue the recalcitrant Joauna, she sang to her; Joanna might protest in the beginning, but, before the strain was brought to a close, she was dumb and spiritless. So, now, by way of persuading her obdurate young auditor to a better frame of mind, she began immediately to sing, in a fearfully high key:

"This world is all a fleeting show,

For man's delusion given."

Joanna clapped her hands over her ears and frowned.

"Pamela Pamela!" she cried, "your hymns are doleful, and I hate them; and I love the world, the beautiful, beautiful world; and I am glad that I am young! Everybody, yes, everybody, would rather be young than old!"

But this remonstrance only moved Miss Basil to sing the louder, in a voice of nasal melancholy, while Joanna, with her eyes fixed upon the orchard where the sun was shining, and the bees were coming and going among the apple-blooms, thought, impatiently:

"Such dolefulness may do for people that have had the rheumatism, but it doesn't suit me. How can she, in a world of apple-blossoms?"

But a change was about to come over the spirit of her dream. Just as Miss Basil sang the last line of the last verse, Mrs. Basil looked in at the open door, with disapproval written on every line of her calm, handsome face.

"Pamela," said she, in a voice which, though cold, was soft and silvery, contrasting strangely with the discordant tones that had just ceased-" Pamela, excuse me, but really you cannot be aware how very loud your singing is, nor how trying to a person out of health. My nephew cannot bear it; he begs that you will spare him."

had assumed the rule in her old home. This was a feature of the case she had not contemplated when she so complacently acquiesced in the title "master of Basilwood," that Miss Basil had bestowed; and she stood now with angry eyes fixed on the door through which Mrs. Basil had disappeared.

"He's the master here, child, as I told you," said Miss Basil, with a sort of grim satisfaction, for once interpreting Joanna's thoughts aright.

"If you are not to sing, it cannot be helped, I suppose," said Joanna, hoarsely; "but you see if I don't find some way to worry the life out of him!"

She

"Joanna, Joanna!" said Miss Basil, tremulously, "you show an unchristian spirit. All tribulation is for our good." was glad to see Joanna in such a frame of mind, but, all the same, she thought it ought to be rebuked.

"I don't believe it!" cried Joanna, recklessly. "It doesn't do me good; and you don't like it any better than I do. Why should he be master here?"

66

Child, I have explained it to you, time and again," said matter-of-fact Miss Basil. "Your grandfather-"

"I know," interrupted Joanna; "I know all about my grandfather. He wasn't a man to wear out his soul making money, like old Mr. John Hendall; more's the pity for us! !""

"It's all the same in the end, child; for all Mr. John Hendall's money, the Hendalls, now, are little better off than ourselves," said Miss Basil, not without a sort of latent satisfaction.

"Basilwood belongs to them," said Joanna, gloomily; "and we can't help it."

"Joanna we could go away?" said Miss Basil, suddenly. It might be desirable, she thought, to familiarize Joanna with that idea.

"Leave Basilwood? My Basilwood, where I have lived all my life!" cried Joanna, turning white at the mere suggestion. "O 'Mela, do you think it must come to that?"

"I suppose it must, in time," said Miss Basil, with studied resignation. "You see already that there is an end to my singing. But you should not say 'my Basilwood,' Joanna, for Basilwood is not, and never will be, yours." It was desirable, Miss Basil thought, to foster the promising enmity that Joanna was beginning to entertain toward Mrs. Ba

"I didn't suppose I could be heard upstairs."

She was busying herself with the young man's breakfast all the while, and Mrs. Basil, seeing these preparations going on, was pleased to show, by a nod and a smile, as she withdrew, closing the door behind her, that she was appeased.

If there was any discipline to which Miss Basil resorted, more irksome than another to Joanna, it was this doleful singing, and ordinarily she rejoiced at any interruption; but now she began to feel, with a bitterness she had never known before, that a stranger

ation the dangerous nature of a rebound from such a sentiment.

Joanna burst into tears. "It shall be mine!" she sobbed, childishly.

'Joanna," said Miss Basil, who could see but one way by which Joanna could obtain possession of Basilwood, "if you ever say that again, I shall be seriously displeased with you."

"Yes," sobbed Joanna, "it's envy, and hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness, 'Mela, I know, to say so; but I can't help it. Never, never, any more, will it be the same place to us. And you took such comfort in your singing, too! I wish he had never come! His old breakfast is getting cold, and I am glad of it; I hope it will disagree with him, I do!"

"Joanna, Joanna!" said Miss Basil, rebukingly. It was very gratifying that Joanna should take a dislike to young Hendall,. but she ought not to wish him harm.

"But I do, 'Mela," persisted Joanna; "and when I feel wicked, you might as well. let me enjoy it." With which startling remonstrance she walked out of the room.

"Joanna ought not to indulge such senti-ments," Miss Basil said to herself, regretfully; "but it is some satisfaction to know that, after all, I did not sing that bymn in vain."

MARION WALLING.

THER

HE knowledge of the one crowning folly in the career of Marion Walling cameto be mine on a September night two years since, and it was brought to me by the one man who could explain it best.

She had run a cruel, brilliant course through all the capitals of Europe, but in obedience to a sentiment of love for home-a sentiment the presence of which in her breast was an inconsistency that I cannot pretend to account for she returned to this country with the avowed intention of helping it in itsmany infirmities, and of teaching others how to become true Americans.

She was twenty-five years of age, and she possessed a wealth that was practically boundless. She was a descendant of a family that had been noted for the beauty of its women, and upon her face and form there had fallen by selection, one might say, the finest and purest graces of half a score of generations. But she had used these charms in the work of Satan. Her society-life, extending over a period of seven years, was marked here and there with those fearful of fenses that no one knows how to punish, and yet the criminality of which no one dares to palliate.

To generate love in the most guarded breast, and to set on fire the most tranquil nature, was her special prerogative, and most wickedly did she exercise it.

To her captives, to be forewarned was not to be forearmed. It availed little to prince or poet to be advised of her nature, for each fell at her will, and without the trace of a struggle. In casting them aside she showed no mercy. She snapped the threads with both hands, and then turned away without a word of pity or regret.

But she found on her return to America that this more independent society looked askance upon her in spite of her wealth and position, and that, for once, disapprobation could be rendered disquieting. She retired to her country-seat, and, surrounded by a gallant company of friends, she caused the belief to go abroad that she had at last taken the true views of her place and use in the world, and that she was ready to assume her share of its burdens.

The law-firm with which I was connected had charge of her own and her father's estates, and I therefore had frequent occasion to visit the household, and I became conver sant, to a certain extent, with what took place beneath the roof.